


Empty Canvas

by toastgallery



Category: GOT7
Genre: F/M, Jealous Park Jinyoung | Jr., Kissing, Pantone, idk how to write but this was in my head for the longest, im a mess, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 13:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15774750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastgallery/pseuds/toastgallery
Summary: He smiled gently from the comfort of your lap, a stretch and pull of the petal of his lips that pushed up his plump cheekbones up to create little moons of his eyes, an expanse of shooting stars paving their way at the corners in a galaxy you’ve seen so many times before, and yet you find yourself reacting as if it was your first.





	Empty Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> I’m trash

He’s looking at you, expectant, a glint of mischief in his hickory eyes. Your hand itched to recreate the color on canvas, 371D10 or 2E1503, your mind supplied. 

“You’re doing it again”, his voice came out, soft and silky. Honey on his FDA172 lips. 

“What exactly am I doing?” 

 

“Figuring out the colors.” He smiled gently from the comfort of your lap, a stretch and pull of the petal of his lips that pushed up his plump cheekbones up to create little moons of his eyes, an expanse of shooting stars paving their way at the corners in a galaxy you’ve seen so many times before, and yet you find yourself reacting as if it was your first. Stopping any incoming though, holding your breath in hopes to not break the scene before you.

 

A gentle breeze caressed your skin, the threads of 5E2C04 on his head, obscuring the moons like clouds on a rainy night. Though, you knew what he wanted you to do as he made no move to clear up his vision still staring with a tiny ghost of a smile. 

So with saccharine touches you move the curtains of his hair to the sides resuming the show on the stage, you being the captivated audience unable to look away. 

 

“Jinyoungie...Will you ever stop teasing me?” you whisper almost afraid that your voice would break the spell. 

“Never, I enjoy that color on your cheeks,” a small gasp leaves your lips, quick hands touching at the skin on your face to find it warm and tingly, electric shocks coming alive. 

“It’s beautiful, just like the colors in the sky right now.” 

 

You groan still covering the sides of your face, eyes trailing up to find that he was probably right. 

FC94AF, FC9483, 311432 and a mix of in betweens your eyes couldn’t number littered the sky above. It was beautiful. But he looks at you, he’s always looking at you, not caring about the natural masterpiece in the sky only focusing on you, the fallen star in his arms. 

 

“I want to see that color closer..” he calls out to your distracted self, a soft touch of his fingers on your hand at his hair, you look down with a question on your eyes.

 

“I could take a picture-“ you begin to shuffle around for your phone but he stops your hands, an intensity in the hickory of his eyes you’ve never seen before. And just like magic you feel the electricity course through your skin, the pink returning to its home at your cheeks.

The moons and shooting stars are back, “There it is, come closer I want to remember it.” 

 

Your mind doesn’t exactly formulate any questions as to why he would want you to come closer and you don’t ponder it for too long, bending over, curtains once again obscuring the show. This time they belonged to you, casting shadows on his face, though not falling directly on it. It was both of your stage. The setting sun as your audience. Hickory eyes shifting over every detail on you leaving a trace of syrup wherever they landed. 

And with all the gentleness in the world 

FDA172 meets FE7F9C creating a color you can’t name. Honeysuckle and ambrosia between your mouths, the palette of colors behind your eyelids creating a vivid copy of yourselves sitting under the darkening plum sky, melting into a mess of hues, fingers leaving stardust on your neck and cheeks, his mouth breathing a galaxy into your body. You were livewire in his hands. A painting only he could create with colors foreign to the human eye. 

And he was your canvas.


End file.
